


if you're lonely, wake me

by spacedhowell



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Relationship Study, Reminiscing, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacedhowell/pseuds/spacedhowell
Summary: Atsumu and Kiyoomi trade questions they both know the answers to.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Kudos: 74





	if you're lonely, wake me

In the night sky, there is a moon and beside it are two stars. Atsumu's eyes close on their own accord and refuse to open back up. The swingset he sits upon creaks softly. Chirping crickets and the quietness of the park drown him. Atsumu lets himself sink.

To his right is a grass patch and a pair of maple trees and a picnic long gone. His head rests on a lap and his back lay upon too many layers of blankets, cushioning him from the rough soil. Sounds of a nearby stream splash into his ears. Atsumu distantly considers if the change in his wallet will be enough for the laundromat. He knows the sheets won't be allowed within six feet of their washing machine after being laid on the filth of the ground.

There are deft fingers carding through his sun-bleached scalp. The sky is blue with wisps of white, and there's a tuft of black hair at the edge of his vision that frames the two moles above Kiyoomi's right eyebrow. Atsumu's fingers twitch with the urge to trace over them.

He doesn't. Instead, he asks, "Will ya miss me, Omi?"

A beat of silence, and then: "No."

Plain and simple. And also a lie. A force of habit. Atsumu tells Kiyoomi as much.

It's silent, then. A kind of quiet lodged somewhere between comfort and contemplation. Atsumu closes his eyes. The fingers in his hair pause their motions.

He knows it's coming when Kiyoomi asks, "Will you?"

The dread, the sensation of falling while asleep, gasping awake, is not any more bearable.

He doesn't open his eyes and he doesn't answer. The question is carried away by the breeze.

To his left is a lake and a park bench and too many ducks to feed. Kiyoomi stands in the dim evening throwing peas to the spot-bills from a reasonable distance.

Atsumu wonders what it is about this stupid park that makes him ask questions he doesn't want the answers to. He blames the serenity. Theres only so much calm that Atsumu—who, by his own compulsion, has ruined anything and everything meaningful that life has ever offered him—can take.

The need to fill the gap takes over. It culminates in a simple question: "Will ya call?"

Kiyoomi aims a pea and misses. It lands too close to his feet. He shuffles his legs up onto the bench for a few seconds, silent permission for one of the closest spot-bills to waddle over and snatch it up, before retreating back to a safe distance. Kiyoomi's shoes scruff against the dirt as he plants them back onto solid ground.

Kiyoomi's answer is simple and sweet and the opposite of what Atsumu wants to hear. "Do you want me to?"

Atsumu feels like crying, all of a sudden. He digs his nails into the wood of the bench until it hurts. It distracts him from the heat behind his eyes.

He turns to face Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi's attention remains firmly on the ducks.

Atsumu looks at those damn moles. He wonders if he'll have to refile his nails when he gets home.

Where he sits is a dusty playground and air that is still with all the words they've left unspoken.

Atsumu would like to believe there's no longer any pretence. They sit side by side on a swingset that reminds Atsumu of the one he and Osamu used to share back when they were kids. He still has the scar on his thumb from when he cut himself on the edge of the seat.

This time, there's nothing to soften the blow. The chill of the night has blown away everything but the vulnerability in their bones. Atsumu dives in. "Will ya come back?"

By now, Kiyoomi is probably expecting it. Yet, the silence is broken with a sharp inhale.

"Will you still be here?" Kiyoomi asks. 

Atsumu would like to scream. Instead, he reaches for Kiyoomi. He does it slowly, afraid his fingers might slip through. He runs his thumb, the one with a scar curved along the edge, along Kiyoomi's cheek, and forms constellations between his moles.

It's as much of an answer as he can give.

In the night sky, there is a moon and beside it are two stars. A crescent—a scar on a thumb, and two dots—moles, if Atsumu concentrates hard enough. He looks up. His vision unfocuses and they blur into a singularity.

Soon, they'll be gone, the moon and the stars. Faded and washed out by the edge of a new and yet familiar sun. They'll be gone, but not really. They'll still be there, orbiting above. They'll cycle through continents. They'll be pulled apart by perspective. Then they'll be pulled back together again. They'll click into place. Atsumu is sure of this. The convoluted laws of the universe make sure of this.

Behind him is an asphalt path that brings him back to an apartment building. Three months ago, Atsumu stood at the doorstep of this very apartment. On the other side stood Kiyoomi, passport in hand. Atsumu looked at the wheeled suitcase rested against the front door and felt the space behind him grow emptier.

Kiyoomi double checks the contents of his duffle. Atsumu knows he's stalling because he's been through it seven times already.

He stares at the wall behind Kiyoomi. Commits the flaking white paint and the faint outline of a muddy shoe print to memory.

Kiyoomi stops fiddling with his bag. At the back of his mind, Atsumu is vaguely aware of the fact that Kiyoomi's eyes are focused intently on his. At the front of his mind, he sees a flaking white wall and a shoe print.

Then, Kiyoomi says, "I will."

It's as much of an answer as he'll get.

Atsumu opens his eyes. The sun is up. He plants his beaten converse onto the grass beneath and rises from the swingset on shaky legs. He turns around, and takes himself back to his apartment. Their apartment.

"Told you I would," is the first thing Kiyoomi says to him, stood waiting outside their apartment door, passport in hand. The same suitcase and duffle as the day he left.

Atsumu stares for a moment. He smiles.

"Yeah, told ya I would, too."

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this with no direction in mind, only the vibes of [wake me](https://youtu.be/6XhXT9MyRCQ) by the bleachers and [on the 5](https://youtu.be/Rh27VnYxJ10) by winnetka bowling league guiding me. 
> 
> then i stayed up till 4am and somehow managed to finish it. thank you to whatever higher power temporarily took over me yesterday.
> 
> hope you enjoyed reading! comments are really appreciated <3


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